


An Excuse

by iselsis



Series: Tim needs snuggles [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Affection, Batman Needs a Robin, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Comfort Reading, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Tim Drake, Platonic Cuddling, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), Tim Drake Gets a Hug, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touch Starved Tim Drake, Touch-Starved, Unofficial Adoption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27979449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iselsis/pseuds/iselsis
Summary: Tim is hit by fear toxin and gets snuggled. It's...a strange feeling, and...well, he's...still dealing with lingering symptoms. Yes. That's totally it. So. Y'know. Bruce needs to take care of that.Tim wants snuggles and thinks he needs an excuse.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Series: Tim needs snuggles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056107
Comments: 56
Kudos: 640
Collections: Tim Drake and Red Robin Stories





	An Excuse

**Author's Note:**

> I have stress and finals and three hours of sleep.

Everyone was going to leave because they always left him because Tim wasn’t good enough for anyone, and no one loved him because he was always a bother, and his mom and dad couldn’t even stand to be around him, and he’d literally forced a grieving father to relive his trauma so Tim could be Robin just because Tim was so bad at dealing with people that he couldn’t even talk Dick into going back to being Robin.

Sobs heaved through his body, and Tim dug his fingers deeper into the Kevlar suit, probably stretching it beyond repair because he was so absolutely _useless_ , but if he didn’t hold on, Bruce was going to throw him off his lap, and Tim would be alone _again_. He didn’t _want_ to be alone, and it was nasty and selfish, but he wanted to just stay in the lap of a father who wasn’t his, with one arm wrapped tightly around him in protection that wasn’t his to take, and so he couldn’t let go.

Bruce brushed his cheek over Tim’s hair and Tim whimpered pathetically at the gentle gesture.

The arm holding him to Bruce’s chest tightened. “It’s alright, Tim. I’ll have the antidote soon. It’s nearly done. I know you’re scared, but you’re going to be okay, I promise. We’ll get you back to normal and into bed so soon, okay?”

“Please don’t leave me!” Tim begged, burying his dripping face in the crook of Bruce’s neck. It was probably gross and awful, and Bruce hated it, and he hated Tim too. Tim hated Tim too.

Bruce shushed him, but his chest tensed, and he was going to leave Tim because Tim was a horrible Robin who couldn’t even avoid _fear gas_ even though Bruce had trained him for that. He’d just wasted so much of Bruce’s time and he was going to have to go back to that _house_ that was lonely and quiet and didn’t have Bruce or Alfred or sometimes Dick, and Tim was sure that was going to kill him.

The tension slowly ebbed away, and Bruce pressed his lips onto Tim’s head. Not quite a kiss, but not quite _not_ a kiss either. Was he _mocking_ Tim? Giving him what he wanted just so he could snatch it away? Tim’s dad did that sometimes, but Bruce was so much better than his dad. Or Tim had _thought_ he was so much better, or maybe Bruce was good, but Tim was so bad that he just deserved to be taunted like that.

“Tim, I’m not going to leave you. I’ve got you, and you’re safe. You’re not alone, Tim. I’m right here,” Bruce promised, his lips still against Tim’s hair.

“Please,” Tim whispered, clenching his eyes. Maybe if he could just stop _crying_ , Bruce would be able to stand him a bit longer.

“Yes, Tim. I’ve got you now. I have you.”

————

Tim was nearly asleep by the time he felt a needle prick in his wrist, and was drifting off as the constant edge of fear melted away and left only pure exhaustion behind. He was vaguely aware of Bruce’s body under his, of the hand carding through his hair, and Tim held completely still, pretending his best to be asleep as he soaked in every detail, every touch so he could keep them for later. He knew that scared Tim had been at least a bit right—he was just a bother to Bruce—but Batman protected Robin, and apparently that included holding fear gassed Robins. As long as Tim was fear gassed….

Bruce rubbed a hand up and down Tim’s arm. “Hey, buddy. How do you feel?”

But of course Bruce knew that the antidote had already taken ahold, and Bruce would be even more mad at Tim for lying to him than he already was that Tim had been gassed in the first place, so Tim opened his eyes and sighed.

“I feel better,” Tim mumbled.

Bruce nodded and smiled. Tim blinked at it. He’d seen that smile, soft, gentle, more on the eyes than on the lips, a few times, but only when Bruce hadn’t known he was looking. It made his stomach do weird fluttery things that he was pretty sure were happiness.

“That’s good. Will you be fine to get down now?” Bruce asked, still all sweet and kind, but Tim knew that when adults asked questions like that, it was just to give the kid the illusion of choice.

Tim slid one shaky leg, then the other, off Bruce’s lap and onto the floor. “I-I’ll be fine now. Thank you, Bruce.”

Bruce nodded and stood up as well. “That was a new toxin, so I’m not sure how well the antidote will work. You should be fine, but we’re going to keep you at the manor overnight to be sure. If the stress comes back, I don’t want you to hesitate to come get me, understood?”

Tim nodded, forcing himself to maintain eye contact even though his eyes were drawn like magnets to his feet. The cowl was down, and Bruce _looked_ serious, but why would he want Tim to bother him just because of a bit of stress?

Oh.

Of course.

Tim breathed a small sigh of relief and smiled weakly. “Thanks, Bruce. I’m going to go take a shower now.”

Bruce nodded and followed Tim to the shower area, going to his stall next to Tim’s to shower and change too.

Bruce needed to know how well the antidote worked, not because of Tim, but because they’d need that antidote for other people, innocent civilians in Gotham, or maybe Batman himself would need it. Probably not—Bruce was smart enough to notice the gas in time to put his mask on—but Tim’s honest opinion was needed for Science.

And…

As he scrubbed suds into his sweaty hair, Tim found himself half-hoping that the antidote wasn’t as effective as it needed to be, just so he could burrow down into that warm, safe hold again. He couldn’t imagine that any antidote could be better than that.

But Tim was fine. There was no terror, no anxiety more than his constant fear of disappointing people, and no reason to demand that Bruce hold him again. Bruce didn’t owe him anything; Tim wasn’t his kid. If he didn’t toe the line carefully, then Bruce would be annoyed and throw him out, so Tim was going to have to be honest about his symptoms.

 _Unfortunately_.

————

Okay, but maybe the stress that ran in the back of his mind so much that it was basically white noise was a little worse than normal.

 _It isn’t_ , Honest Tim said. _But maybe it is_ , Idealist Tim countered. _Bruce needs to know,_ ~~Lonely~~ _Science_ Tim said.

Idealist Tim and Science Tim were louder than Honest Tim, so he pushed back the duvet and threw his legs over the side of the bed. Somewhere in the back of his head, Smart Tim was screaming at him, so Tim quickly crossed the floor before he had the chance to listen.

He did almost balk at the hall, but he took that as a good sign. Proof that he was still being affected by the toxin because Tim had _never_ been scared of the hall before.

Smart Tim whispered that it wasn’t the _hall_ that he was scared of, though, it was what was on the other side and the rejection that was almost certainly to come. Bruce would be able to tell that he was maybe a bit exaggerating how bad the lingering side effects were, and he’d get really mad at Tim and probably never touch him again.

But he might _not_ know that Tim was just kind of sort of stretching the truth because even though Bruce was Batman and knew almost everything, Dick had explained that Bruce was kind of clueless when it came to feelings. He wasn’t sure what the hollow feeling was in his chest that he could usually ignore until Bruce somehow made it go away by holding him, but Tim was pretty sure he could pretend that it was fear. It certainly scared him.

Tim took a deep breath and crossed the hallway floor to Bruce’s bedroom. Bruce had _said_ no hesitating, but Tim still paused at the door, not sure whether to knock or to just go in.

Bruce might be sleeping, and he’d be annoyed if Tim woke him up. If Tim could just sneak in while he was sleeping, that would be better. No knocking, then, just barging into the room of a man he’d known less than a year so he could sneak into the man’s bed. He hoped that Bruce would forgive him in the morning.

Tim steeled himself and slowly turned the knob. It moved soundlessly, and the door shifted open without so much as a squeak.

Tim looked into the room and could see only the soft rise and fall of Bruce’s chest by the thin sliver of light slipping through the curtains. He was asleep. It had, after all, been a couple hours since they’d said goodnight and parted ways.

Tim released a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding and stepped into the room, practicing moving as silently as Bruce had been trying to teach him to be.

He must have been too focused on his feet, though, to notice anything else because when he was halfway across the room, he heard, “Tim?”

Tim inhaled sharply and froze, then slowly looked up. “B-Bruce. Hi.”

Bruce flicked on the bedside lamp and sat up. “What’s wrong, Tim? Is the toxin bothering you again?”

Tim bit his lip, then nodded vigorously. “Y-yeah. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Let’s go to the cave and run a few tests, then.” Bruce started to pushed the blankets back so he could get up, and Tim internally screamed in protest and grief. _No!_

Tim stepped forward quickly until he was right next to the bed, almost, but not quite, touching it. “It’s fine. You don’t have to.”

Bruce frowned, the dim room making the shadows even deeper and darker than normal. It took all Tim had not to confess right then and apologize for lying, but that urge actually gave him reassurance. If he was that scared of Bruce, who wasn’t going to actively hurt him even if he _did_ kick him out later, then he probably really _was_ dealing with fear gas side effects.

“I don’t want you to suffer, Tim. We’ll go downstairs and I’ll synthesize another antidote,” Bruce said, but he was doing it all _wrong_.

“You don’t have to do it, really. I-” Tim had to take another deep breath to calm down enough to get the words out, but really he should have been playing it up for sympathy points. “I’m tired. I want to go to sleep, but I felt…”

He’s not quite sure what he should say there for maximum sympathy points, but Bruce’s expression softened and he laid a hand on Tim’s shoulder. Tim sighed and leaned into the touch, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see Bruce’s face when he realized how needy Tim was.

“Unsafe?” Bruce finished for him.

 _Alone_ was closer to the truth, but that was good enough, he supposed. Tim nodded .

“I didn’t want to be all by myself,” he whispered.

“Do you want to sleep in here?” Bruce asked, and his tone was a jumble of tenderness and grief.

Tim bet Jason had slept in Bruce’s bed before. Why wouldn’t he, with a great dad like Bruce who gave such awesome hugs that made him feel so safe and cared for in a way he hadn’t since he’d sat on Dick Grayson’s knee when he was a little kid? Tim had probably stepped on another landmine that was going to make Bruce feel awful, and he opened his eyes and mouth to apologize, but all he saw was Bruce pulling back a corner of the blankets and motioning for Tim to climb inside.

Tim didn’t let himself hesitate before practically leaping onto the sheets and lying down with his head on a pillow that smelled of Bruce’s aftershave and Alfred’s detergent.

As Bruce pulled the blankets back over both of them, Tim tensed. He didn’t want to accidentally whack Bruce in his sleep, so maybe he could sleep with his hands underneath him to keep from flailing. It was a big bed, so maybe Tim should just be grateful for the increased proximity and…

And there was a warm arm around him, bringing him close to Bruce’s chest. Tim stiffened, and Bruce pulled back suddenly, taking the warmth and protection with him. Tim half-leaned forward, chasing the sensation, but Bruce had pulled his arms to his chest.

“I’m sorry Tim, I…you’re not one of my boys, I shouldn’t-”

Tim deliberately forced himself to go limp and shifted so he was closer to Bruce. He was making Bruce anxious, which was making _him_ anxious, and Bruce didn’t deserve that when he was just trying to comfort Tim because Tim was lying and had made a stupid mistake earlier.

“Sorry,” Tim squeaked. “Surprised me. I’m just not use to hugs.”

The lamp was still on—should they turn it off, or had Bruce left it on on purpose?—so Tim could see the slight frown on Bruce’s face that quickly smoothed into something unreadable.

“I see. What would make you feel safest, Tim? Do you want me to go to the other side of the bed? I could sleep in the chair over there and keep-”

“No!” Tim cried, then blanched at the surprise on Bruce’s face. “Uh, I mean…”

Tim bit his lip and turned his face half into the pillow, then mumbled, “Can you hold me again?”

Tim couldn’t see Bruce’s face, but he could hear the quiet murmur of approval and could feel the giant strong arm snake under his shoulders and pull him up so that his face was pillowed against Bruce’s chest. He could feel the firm hand rubbing circles into his back. Could feel the chin his head was tucked under.

“Is that better?” Bruce asked, his breath warm against Tim’s hair and his chest warm under Tim’s body. Warm, warm and _present_. There, even though it was only on a pretense.

Maybe it wasn’t _entirely_ a pretense, though, because Tim had never felt so secure in his life. Hadn’t realized how anxious he was even without the toxin until he felt safe. And, well. Bruce wanted him to not be _scared_ , and he _wasn’t_ anymore, even if he hadn’t known that he had been before. He never wanted to get up.

Tim nodded and sighed contentedly. “Mhm.”

By the shift of the jaw on his head, Tim was pretty sure Bruce smiled at that. Tim smiled too.

“Goodnight, Tim.”

“Goodnight, Bruce.”

**Author's Note:**

> Now I just have finals and three hours of sleep.


End file.
